


Apologia

by technosagery



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:24:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technosagery/pseuds/technosagery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Wingman. In Will's defense, he did just almost die a lizard creature, but there's really no defense for being childish. Not like he's been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologia

Will can't stop seeing the look on Magnus's face when he and Abby interrupted dinner. She seemed more pissed off about the reservation than this, but he can tell, he's disappointed her. Not to mention kind of fucking things up for Henry, even if Erica was going to say no anyway and he could have told Henry that, if he'd asked.

Abby wants to stay, but he makes her leave. He tells her he'll call her tomorrow and he will, but right now he needs to think. Away from Abby, and her legs and that rack and the way she's always saying 'yes, Will' when everyone else is saying 'no, Will, be responsible, Will, do your job, Will'.

He tucks his hands in his hoodie pockets (yes, he's wearing a shirt again) and goes in search of…someone. He's not even sure who.

Kate finds him first and rips him a new one. She has every right, what with the delivery she and Big Guy had to do without him because he was busy with Abby. Determined to have an actual date, and _sex_ with Abby. He lets Kate go on, his shoulders rolled forward and eyes closing with a nod. "I know," he tells her. "You're right. I screwed up today. Big time. I'm just lucky you're okay, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

Magnus told him once - the first time she left him in charge - that sometimes getting lucky is the best you can hope for. He's sure she didn't mean in the relationship sense, but it seems like it might apply there, even if Abby's pretty great. Will wants to say he sees a future with her, but there are signs already - even if he hadn't been a jerk tonight, the way she talks to everyone else grates. And she did more or less emasculate him when a little encouragement would've been a lot more use.

Maybe it makes him six different kinds of a fool that 'getting lucky' was more important than anything else. It probably does. In his defense, he almost died a lizard creature a week ago, and his best friends almost had to kill him. He's not really coping that well. Running around the Sanctuary half-naked with Abby's not even the first clue.

"Look, Kate," he interrupts when he realizes she has her arms crossed over her chest, she's glaring, and he has absolutely no idea what she's been saying for the past three minutes. "I'm really glad you and Big Guy are okay. I'd never have forgiven myself if you weren't. I don't really have an excuse. I'm just--"

"A train wreck, man. You're a disaster. And you better get your shit together before you do something that really upsets her."

Her? Will lifts an eyebrow.

Kate just threatens to hit him and he ducks away, more confused than he was to start with, and more…scared, actually.

Big Guy finds him next, or he finds Big Guy. He was kind of hoping for some more of that hooch and cards, or just a talk down, but he gets a growl and a hard smack in the back of the head. He's still busy rubbing it when the big guy shakes his head at him. "Be a better man, Will."

That kind of stresses him out, and the urge to call Abby is almost overwhelming. Beneath it, there's this ache, when he stares at the carpets in the halls he's walking. It's not really Abby he wants. He misses Clara right now. She'd say 'yes, Will' and 'don't be an idiot, Will' and somehow he'd understand it all at the end.

Or maybe it's not really _Clara_ he wants either.

Will sighs and rubs a hand over his eyes. He really has been a royal screw up. He knows, because Sally won't even come all the way to the glass. She scowls at him, shakes her head hard and swims away.

He sits there for awhile anyway, staring at the fronds waving in her tank, trying to make sense of it, and mostly avoiding Henry and Magnus. Henry will forgive him when he's done being bruised about Erica, and finding him tonight to apologize for stealing his dinner would just be crass.

The whole thing is crass, now that he thinks about it, and he can hear Magnus calling it lowbrow. It's worse than that. He just paraded his naked girlfriend in front of his best friend who got dumped and his…Magnus, and the only excuse he has for it is 'carpe diem' and 'suck the marrow out of life'. The sex is a case of affirming life in the face of death - _it's a perfectly natural reaction, Will_ , Magnus would tell him. But the rest of it…

The rest of it is absolutely juvenile. Like a teenaged rebellion against the work he's been loaded down with for months and months. He hasn't had a break since…ever, and the last time he tried to get some time for vacation and to service his 'libido' was two years ago, before he died to save the Indian coastline. It really hasn't been the easiest couple of years. Not to mention that Magnus almost died again before Praxis and he had to take over and…

That was hard, damn it. And staring her down through alien eyes, attacking her, not being able to stop himself, and seeing her deciding she'd kill him, that too.

Somehow, Will finds himself on the roof looking out over Old City. The wind whips around him, but he only feels it on his cheeks. They're wet and his throat's raw. Who knows how long he's been up here, how long he's been chasing fear, grief, loss, denial…youth and irresponsibility, one last chance to give all of this up and just be a guy instead of Dr. Helen Magnus's protege - not even protege anymore, just second-in-command - who is going to have to run the Old City Sanctuary someday.

She's been standing there awhile, he knows, because when he becomes aware of her, it's the lack of motion, the stillness, not movement that draws him. The windbreak at his back and the slight warmth. Her eyes are the color of a storm over the Pacific, dark and poignant, and how he sees them in the dark has less to do with light and more with knowledge. Her mouth is pressed in that tight, disappointed purse, but the set of her shoulders is wrong.

The set of her shoulders will haunt him, he knows. She's hurt and it's his fault.

"I'm sorry." He doesn't even say her name. It doesn't feel like he has the right.

"I know." She's hurt, but she also hurts for him. He can see that too in the tightening around her eyes and the nod and the weight of her hand on his arm. "Come along, Will. It's late again. Try to sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning."

Will doesn't want to talk about it in the morning. He wants to fix it now and digs in his heels a bit. "I'm really really sorry. I--"

"In the morning, Will. My office." A sharp look, frustrated, but it's saved from fury with the slight cock of her head. "Alone. And with all your clothes this time. Hm?"

Oh God, he feels like shit. If he could melt through the roof he would. Instead, he ducks his head and answers, simply, "Yeah."


End file.
